Imagine A Whisper
by goldnote
Summary: Jareth pays Sarah a visit after so many years of being apart... He doesn't understand, though, what consequences his visits will have over both his world and Sarah's. JarethxSarah Rated M for later chapters...
1. Chapter 1

_One: this story will be shameless in nearly every way. _

_Two: this story will not be updated regularly_

_Three: I will have more fun with this story than seriousness... I really haven't "delved deep" into the world of Labryinth, I just find the characters interesting... If there is an inconsistancy or something that doesn't quite match with the movie, I really don't care. Sorry. (Like the time-set for this story: Sarah is about 20 and the year is anywhere from 2000 to present... pick your favorite year and run with it...). _

_Four: thanks for reading and ENJOY the story. If you enjoyed it, leave me a review. If you hated it, stop reading. (grin). _

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**"If you happen to like pretty lies, I am sure you've found the right man to whisper them into your ear."**

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Sarah leaned over the keyboard of her laptop, aggravated.

"Well, they cut me from the cast," she stated, her voice breaking the silence that had settled in her room. "Great. Just fu-"

"I'm back!"

A cold gust blew in through the front door as Sarah's house mate arrived, shoulders straining under her heavy backpack, nose hardly visible through the thick woolen scarf covering her face. The weather was getting colder, most definitely colder, as Fall passed the torch to Winter over the course of a few short weeks. The snow hadn't flown yet, nor would until the weekend (according to the forecast Sarah had caught briefly on a campus television between classes), but Nature seemed to be getting ready for the first round of snow showers.

"Hi," Amber said, eyebrows raised in surprise at the look on her roommate's face. "I'm assuming it's not good news about the play?" Sarah hardly ever looked upset.

Amber's backpack hit the carpeted floor with a thunk that could only mean she had forgotten her own laptop was stashed between the pounds of textbooks sandwiched between the fabric of the bag. With a swear, she knelt next to the bag and unraveled her scarf at the same time, trying to keep up conversation.

"Well, it'll be okay," the blond haired girl stated reassuringly, dragging out the laptop and checking it over for scratches while addressing Sarah. "It's all because of that transfer student; it wasn't fair of them to let her audition after the-"

Sarah let her friend rattle on how the transfer student from an acting school several states away had stolen the part single-handedly and had done terrible things to get the female lead of the biggest play of the school year. It wasn't going to help the pain of rejection, but it was comforting to know there was someone who cared about her enough to fabricate such lies. Ever since her parent's death, Sarah hadn't had anyone else but Toby and Amber to talk with. She wondered if Hoggle would ever come back; the grumpy little creature hadn't talked with her in years, stopped responding to her calls for help and cries of loneliness. The others hadn't answered, either, in just as long.

She often wondered if it was because of her growing up, the changes she had undergone the past few years, and their effect on how much of a child she still was inside. Her first and only boyfriend in high school had turned out to be a complete loser, and Sarah had doubted she could even call him a boyfriend considering how long they had actually liked one another (hardly any time at all) and that they had never even held hands. She hadn't read much besides textbooks in years... her high school's library had been ill stocked and the local library had moved too far away for Sarah to run off to in hopes of escaping in a good story. Her sophomore year of high school was when it seemed most of her family disappeared, aunts and uncles moving to different countries, cousins getting engaged or scholarships (both of which led them far, far away), and then accident that had killed her father and stepmother. Her birth mother occasionally sent little gifts and the rare letter. Sarah hadn't talked on the phone with her mother in nearly two years and there was no time in either of their lives to email one another about themselves. Sarah hardly had time to check her own campus email with all the ensembles and practices and auditions she had scheduled, on top of classes and homework.

"Sarah, are you listening to me?"

"Oh, um, yeah... thanks for the words," Sarah lied, putting on what she hoped was a grin of reassurance and not a grimace. She was a good enough actress, apparently, because Amber smiled back at her and, dragging her backpack by one strap with her laptop tucked under her arm, wandered to the couch across the room. It wasn't unusual for Amber to join Sarah during the few hours they had together at the house. Sarah didn't get home, walking the two blocks from campus to the tiny house, until nearly eleven o'clock most nights, and Amber worked the graveyard shift at a local convenience store, one of those chains of supermarkets that employed workers like farms bought livestock. When they were able to enjoy one another's company, they didn't talk very much, too engrossed in their studies to really break concentration, but there was fun. Sarah, uncharacteristically, sometimes made paper airplanes and flew them across the room with notes scrawled on them, Amber writing notes back the same way. There was tea, sometimes, on nights with less homework than anticipated. Every week or two, there was even time to procrastinate on studying to watch a movie before Amber had to go to work. Sarah nearly always made coffee for her friend to keep her awake until she got back around the same time Sarah was getting up for class. Amber was a student at a technical college just a few miles away from the private four-year college Sarah was studying at, but it seemed that even though Sarah struggled through the music theory and memorizing scripts that were the requirements of her double majors in music and theater, Amber had just as hard of a time understanding the complex material her professors assigned her to complete. It was reassuring for Sarah to know that she wasn't the only one struggling with education and the pursuit of a higher knowledge, although she knew she must be crazy to be attempting a double major in two very difficult programs. It was the nearing the end of her first semester as a sophomore in college and Sarah knew she would probably have to pick one major over the other, eventually, if she couldn't keep up with the material.

"Sarah, you're really out of it tonight. Did you just hear a word I said?"

"Sorry... I'll, um, make your coffee."

Amber gave a sad grin as Sarah put down the music theory homework she had been staring at and walked off into the kitchen. It didn't matter what Amber said to convince her friend otherwise: Sarah was stretched too thin. This audition had kept Sarah busy but hopeful and upbeat for nearly two weeks. Now that it was all over, and with bad news, Amber was worried about her friend. She had tried to ignore the strange look Sarah had in her eyes when she heard a particular strain of music from the recordings that came with her music homework or the sad, frustrated sigh Sarah sometimes made. Amber knew about Sarah's family and most of Sarah's past, they had been close enough to exchange childhood stories, but it didn't explain why sometimes, in Sarah's sleep, Amber could hear her cry out:

"Jareth!"

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Amber had left about two hours ago and Sarah was nearly finished with most of her homework. It was only "most" instead of "all" because there was a book she hadn't been able to find at the library, meaning she would have to tell her professor she hadn't been able to complete the assignment. She hated doing that. She couldn't just let something go, to pretend the professor wouldn't ask why it wasn't done. Sarah had no other choice but to do as well as she could in everything: failing out of school wasn't an option in her life. There was no back-up except a degree, preferably two. Sarah had tried going straight to the stage after high school. It showed how well she had done with the fact there were only five months between her high school graduation and when she had her first day of class at the private, fine-arts oriented school she had found herself at. Sarah had gone to audition after audition with no luck. She wasn't even cast in the chorus of musicals, nothing more than an unfriendly farewell and insincere best-of-lucks from directors and the selected cast. One director, though, had seen promise in the girl, and had pulled a few strings with friends of his who were professors and graduates of the college he recommended to Sarah.

"Go," he had said, the old man sitting in his chair, a twinkle in his eye, "I see good things in your future, but you can't do this right out of high school. You need more education, you need more knowledge. You need more help than you're giving yourself. Get a degree, get something to fall back on, and don't give up. I made a few calls on your behalf-"

The rest of what that brilliant man had said faded into Sarah's memory as a loud thump came from the window in the kitchen. It paused Sarah mid-motion as she stuffed her textbooks back into the bag she would take with her back to campus for the next day of class. She had heard the same sound earlier in the week and Amber, who had been in the kitchen, had said it was just a bird. But that had been in the broad daylight, when there was nothing to fear. Now, Sarah was by herself, alone, late at night. Nothing that loud could have been a bird. Pulling out her cellphone from her jeans pocket, Sarah stood and crept toward the kitchen, on the other side of the wall. The house, though small, was cleverly laid out. The kitchen was in the front of the house, next to the front door. Next to the kitchen was a small yet elegant dining room, which was all separated from the living room by a large wall complete with fireplace. The two bedrooms and small bathroom were to the left of the living room, down a narrow hallway, and there was no attic or basement. When Amber had bought it, it had belonged to an elderly couple and Amber had been slowly redecorating the past year. When Sarah and Amber had become friends, Sarah had mentioned she hated living on campus in the crowded and noisy dorms, where she could hardly find a moment to herself. It was Sarah's fourth month living in the house, renting a room and sharing the house for a modest price. Nothing bad had ever happened, except the occasional unsettling creak of a floorboard no one had stepped on or the strange birds that seemed to feel the need to fly through the house only to be stopped by glass and brick.

"Honestly," Sarah sighed as she saw nothing outside of the window. All thoughts of calling Amber flew out of her head as she put the cellphone back in her pocket. It was time Sarah got some sleep; she couldn't be calling Amber at work unless it was an emergency and Sarah's ten o'clock class was going to come too fast. It always did, but at least Sarah had that time to either sleep in or do more homework, whichever was more essential to keeping her on her feet. Leaving the bag of homework by the couch, Sarah turned off the lights and checked the locks on the doors and windows; there wasn't a night she did this without looking over her shoulder. Sarah knew what sort of things lurked in the darkness. Even after all these years, she hadn't forgotten about the terrible things that had appeared to her out of the blackest of nights, in the darkest of times. On the off chance those things were to come back, Sarah wasn't going to be caught by surprise.

The surprise happened, though, when Sarah entered her room.

The tiny room wasn't even painted yet, the cans of soft purple tint sitting in a corner. There was a brand new shelf across one wall, a few expensive pieces of wood Sarah had painstakingly varnished and screwed into drywall herself. Her beautiful curtains, gossamer and linen dyed the prettiest of purples and blues and speckled with invisible glitter flakes, hung over the open window. It was the open window that led Sarah to believe something was wrong. She would never leave the window open, even if she had opened it to begin with. The chill of the air floated in the room, causing Sarah to shiver before she could even finish her glance around the room. From the open window, she followed the line of the plush rug laying over the hardwood floor to the hem of her bedspread.

One soft leather boot, from pointed toe to sculpted knee, hung over the bed. Legs trapped in grey riding breeches crossed one another and Sarah held her breath as she saw the pale white of skin showing through a ruffled white shirt and black leather vest shine from the darkness. A stray beam from the moon fell through the open window and across mismatched eyes, blond wisps of hair swaying in the cold breeze.

"Why, hello, Sarah," the silky voice slurred, fingers snapping gently in their leather gloves to hold a crystal ball. "It's been a long time."

Sarah couldn't feel the floor, even though she knew she was heading towards it as she fainted. She drifted on and on, unable to catch anything around her to slow her descent into the unknown or, worse, what was most definitely known.


	2. Chapter 2

_Bonjour, all of you who are actually deciding to read the second chapter... it means you must have read the first (and I thank you for that). I promise you will be well rewarded for your time. Like I said before, if you like it then please review and tell me what you think. If you don't like it, stop reading and go find something else. If you're torn between the two and want to give it a chance, put it on alert and we'll see how far it goes... I think it's obvious already that this is definitely not a major project nor a high priority in my mind. I do thank everyone for reading, so far, though!_

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**_"Hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable."_**

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"You're beautiful when you tremble," she could hear him say as she resumed consciousness.

Sarah tried to sit up, but her head was too heavy. Every time she moved, a sharp pain ran up and down her back, as though someone was running a ball of nails along her spine. Her bottom lip throbbed and, taking a suck at the wound, realized it was still bleeding.

"Please, do that again," the silky voice requested, a hint of cynicism breaking through the bell tones of Jareth's words. "You bit it when you hit the floor."

Jareth.  
Sarah's mind reeled. She was having a hard time opening her eyes but, all of a sudden, she didn't want to keep trying. When she opened them, it would confirm the nightmare she had found herself in. It had been so peaceful in the darkness, once she realized she wasn't heading back to the Labyrinth. She would just keep falling forever and ever, with no sense of time or responsibility or fear, in the warmth. Now that she had been jerked so quickly from that once-feared, now yearned-for space, that dream when she had fallen and not stopped falling, Sarah realized it was very cold and that she was very sore. The ground was so hard; she had not fallen onto the rug and it almost seemed like she had hit something on her way to the floor. Perhaps the box of books she had neglected to put on her new shelf? Initially, Sarah wondered why she was not in her bed, waking up from a long sleep after a long day of heavy manual labor. It was_ his _voice that had brought reality rushing to her.

"I- I don't-"

Sarah couldn't form words, couldn't think about anything else but her back and her head and the fact a voice from her darkest nightmares and deepest desires, both hidden away for such a long time under such thin veils, was now in her ear. A warmth swept over her and she could feel arms reaching under her, lifting her. As she managed a small cry of pain as her back twisted and muscles spasmed, there was a small noise, like a disapproving tap of the tongue on the back of teeth. Sarah could hardly register the smell of fine dust and leather and cinnamon as Jareth and how close he really was. The arm that was under her waist slid down, almost too slowly, to her knees and supported her legs as Sarah was lifted off the floor and brought across the room to her bed. Gently, she was laid upon the soft blanket and pillows, which were still slightly warm from where Jareth had lain. Despite her fear and discomfort and shock, Sarah managed a grateful half-smile, which turned into a grimace as she took a deep breath.

"You passed out ten minutes ago," the Goblin King said, sitting beside Sarah's fairly limp body on the bed. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't dare rouse you."

"Not- not fair."

"Life isn't fair, my dearest Sarah," came the reply. "I didn't want you to run out the door, to run away from me again. I wanted you here, able to hear my words and think on them, instead of acting rashly or throwing everything I say out of your head. I didn't want you hurt, but I wasn't about to complain when you fainted. In fact, it was quite flattering."

Sarah breathed deep for a few moments, trying to ignore the fact there were gloved fingers brushing through the tips of her hair, which was grown out nearly to her elbows; what a moment to remember she had forgotten to make time in her busy schedule for a haircut! Her clothes, a pale pink sweater pulled over a purple tank, and old blue jeans seemed to still be where they needed to be and were holding in a bit of warmth that had seeped through the layers from the body sitting next to her, still just sitting. There was too much to worry about to be thinking about clothes--

"Don't worry, at least, not right now. As long as I'm here, you need not worry."

What a strange thing for such a strange man to be saying! It made Sarah angry, the rage cutting through the fog and the pain and the embarrassment. How dare he, after all these years, after all of her attempts to cut him out of her life, come into her room in the dead of night? How dare he let her lay on the floor, prone to anything, hurt and bleeding, and then administer care as though he had every right to be there? Sarah had never trusted the Goblin King and now here she was, completely flat on her back and unable to even open her eyes. Truth be told, she was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see his face again. As long as she couldn't see him, he wasn't there. She could smell him, the scent of the Underground and the magic floating off him (on the chill breeze because the stupid window was still open), and she could feel him next to her. The senses were overwhelmed, all except sight. But, it would maybe be better if she looked at him: it would decrease the clarity of every other sense, including the vivid awareness of his fingers in her hair, at her elbow.

"Yes, Sarah," came a whisper, hardly an inch from her ear, causing her to flinch and then freeze in horror. "Open your eyes and look at me."

"Can you- read my mind?" Sarah asked fearfully, knowing the answer could be anything.

"Well, we'll see if I can later," was the evasive answer, "I want you to look at me."

That did it. The eyes were staying shut. She was done obeying Jareth's voice. Jareth, everything and nothing in her world. He had been her hero, her villain, the one who put the terrifying memories of the creatures of the Labryinth in her head, the one who was pressed too close to her during that one dance... that dance...

"I remember, too. How beautiful you were, how promising. You could have been the Goblin Queen, my bride. You were already the talk of the ball, the young mortal who had snared the King's heart."

Sarah's eyes flew open.

"You_ can _read my thoughts! You- you- oh, ow-"

As Sarah tried to sit up, every muscle in her back spasmed, causing her to twist right into Jareth's arms. Furious and emersed in pain and shame, Sarah tried squirming back onto the bed.

"You do realize that, if I had not caught you, you would have fallen off the bed?"

"I don't care."

"In that case-"

Sarah felt the hands release her and she could sense that, this time, the darkness had a limit and the floor was hardly a foot away from her face. Sticking out a hand, she snagged her fingernails on the corner of the bed, fingers twisting desperately around the covers. She stayed that way, hanging over the bed, the only reasons she hadn't fallen to a painful lump on the floor because of her grip on the bedding and her legs pressed into the bed by Jareth's body. Jareth himself had magicked himself a pillow to rest against, one matching the pillows on the bed, and leaned backward, hands resting behind his head against the wall. Sarah's lower half was pinned between the mattress and Jareth's back; he seemed as solid as a stone and Sarah pulled herself back up with a grunt and a sigh, flopping back onto the pillows.

"Your eyes are still as beautiful-"

"Shut up, will you?"

Sarah had covered her face with her hands to avoid looking at him, to cover the blush running across her cheeks. If he could read her mind, hear her thoughts, he would know anything, everything she was thinking about. Against her will, nearly hundreds of images flashed across her mind, most of them relating to her life in the world of the non-magical, several of them about her time in the Underground, and just one or two of them inappropriate and rather private.

"I see in images, not words. When your words go too fast, I can't focus on more than one picture at a time."

So, he really could read her mind. At least this knowledge that, as long as she thought quickly and didn't linger on more than a few things at a time, he couldn't see everything she was thinking about, reassured her a bit. She calmed her breathing, which had quickened in those short moments, and couldn't help but think about how to prepare herself to look at her strange visitor. Sarah didn't have long to think, though, because Jareth leaned over her, releasing her legs from their trap, and pulled her hands away from her face by her wrists. His fingers flexed and the leather squeezed her skin; Sarah could feel her pulse quicken under the pressure he had over her hands. She didn't struggle, just froze yet again as she noted that, if she closed her eyes, he would probably do something else, probably something not comfortable, to open them. And so the world unfolded before her...

"You are flattering, my dear creature," his voice whispered, his face a respectable distance from her own, eyes level. Sarah realized she had just thought he was as glorious and frightening and regal as he had been the last time she had seen him. She blushed and was thankful he didn't comment on that, as well.

"I see you," Sarah said calmly, ignoring the stinging in her lip and the tickle of blood oozing from the wound. "Now why are you here?"

"I thought you would want to talk a little bit more about other things than why I'm here."

Sarah thought, as loud as she could: No.

Well then, said a voice that was not her own inside her head, I suppose I might as well humor you.

Jareth chuckled as Sarah realized she could hear his thoughts as well. When he laughed, she could feel his torso shake, hitting her own with every peal of laugher. It was a concern of hers that he would get closer and Jareth, hearing this, released her hands. The bed didn't shift as he put his weight on his feet and stood, his shadow looming over her as Sarah tried and failed to get her own body to listen to her.

The Goblin King opened his mouth to speak, but before a sound came out, he paused, eyes shifting towards the bedroom door. Turning back to Sarah, he smiled a crooked smile and seized one of her hands lesurely. Kissing the top of her hand, Jareth, being a perfect gentleman, bowed.

"Another time, Sarah. You don't seem to be alone anymore, and it is only when you are alone that I may come and visit. Rest!"

"Wait, but-"

"Goodbye."

With hardly more than a rustle and a shower of silent sparkles that drifted to the floor, Jareth was gone. He had not left a moment too soon because Amber burst in through the bedroom door, looking hassled and worried. She wasn't due to get off so early! She had only been at work for a few hours and now she was back, babbling.

"Are you okay? I got a scratchy voicemail from your phone! I'm sorry I couldn't answer when you called, I was helping a customer! I came as soon as I could get off. I said it was an emergency! Is there an emergency?"

"No, um... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you," Sarah said, thinking as quickly as possible to come up with an excuse that sounded believable enough that Amber wouldn't hate her. "I fell- tripped over my backpack and hit my head on the floor. I must have bumped your speed-dial and not known it."

"How did you get in bed? And why do you look so flushed?"

"I crawled. I think I threw my back out. And I'm in pain."

Sarah tried a grimace as she moved, but didn't have to fake too much. Perhaps she really had hurt her back? Her head still hurt, that was for sure.

"You poor thing," Amber said, heart melting. "Want tea or painkiller? No, you're getting them no matter if you want them or not! I'll be right back!"

Dear, sweet Amber. It didn't matter it was nearly three in the morning and she had had to take off work to come home and take care of her roommate. Sarah smiled and thanked the stars she had accidentally pressed Amber's speed-dial number.

A laugh broke through Sarah's thoughts.

Oh, you can't give yourself credit for that one, said the familiar voice that had just been a breath away from her ear ten minutes ago.

"Jareth," Sarah stated. It was more of an oath than anything.

I think I like it when you say my name like that, said the voice. And I can tell you're blushing.

Sarah indeed blushed again, the blood rushing to her head making her lip throb. She put her hand to her mouth and poked at the bite mark, rubbing away some of the dried blood. The top of the hand Jareth had kissed brushed against her lower lip and, within a few seconds and with a few unusual sensations, the wound was gone.

"Healing sped up," Sarah muttered as she explained to herself what that strange itching and tingling sensation had been. "Healing kisses?" Ruefully, Sarah wondered if that would work on her back, the muscles still flexing beyond her will and bothering her.

We could see if it would work, came the smooth reply.

"No, no, don't you dare."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you, readers, for the reviews and all the watches! I was astounded by the number of people who took my previous A/N seriously and either favorited or watched the story if they were even on the rope for what was going to happen next... Thanks, and I'll remember the attentiveness of my readers for future chapters. Oh, believe me, I wanted to write so much more for this chapter and, if it's any hope to readers eager for some more interaction and interesting moments between our favorite wicked king and clever young woman. I have two more chapters I am messing around with currently, one with a tame rating and one not so tame... I'm not sure when they will be posted or how late into the story they will be... I want to wrap this story up around Chapter 20 if possible, but last time I set a limit on my stories, one turned out to be 60+ chapters! I've bored you long enough and, now, onward..._

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_But oh, now, my world is at your feet. I was lost and I was found,  
But I was alive and now I've drowned._

Missy Higgins, "They Weren't There"

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_You have so many tough lessons to learn, even if it kills me to have to teach you._

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The pain in her back hadn't gone away by the time Sarah's alarm clock rang pitifully, it's humming and screeching reminding her she needed a new one. It didn't do to have dropped the thing so many times in her fumbles on the nightstand to hit the snooze after all these years. Sarah didn't wake up to the sound, though. She was already awake, had been awake all night. Even in her exhaustion from the pains in her body and the thoughts in her mind, Sarah had not been able to fall asleep. Oh, she had tried. She knew she had tried and was pretty sure _he_ knew she had tried, as well. As soon as her eyelids felt too heavy, Sarah had noticed the extra, new pillow Jareth had summoned for himself and had to move it off the bed. It now sat under the nightstand, rejected and ignored. She had lingered over the fact her lip was now healed and, tentatively, had bit the spot again. The skin refused to break and it was only after nearly a half hour of semi-conscious chewing that she had tasted blood. It reassured her, in a strange way, that she had control over herself: she didn't want to be reminded of the usual sensations she had felt, not just in her lips, just a handful of hours ago.

Why had he come? What had happened that would have prompted such a visit? There was really no excuse, no reason for him to pop back into her life. Yes, there had been dreams. Dreams in her sleep, dreams during class, moments where she had flown out of her world and back to Jareth's. But never had she purposely tried to summon him into her thoughts. He usually appeared out of a shadow, a shape out of the corner of her eye, never approaching but always watching as she wandered through her memories of the Labyrinth. Very few times over the years had seen his face in her mind's eye, even fewer times when he had spoken. She could hardly remember the seconds his hand had brushed over hers once in a nightmare she had been having, and remembered that, after waking up, she had washed her hands numerous times before sitting up with a hot cup of tea the rest of the night.

She had listened to a song the other week in one of her music classes about a witch king who stole children's souls, a German leid that was far too dark for her liking. Sarah had read a chapter of a book in one of her literature classes about a strange man who was not a villain yet not innocent in the darker dealings of numerous worlds; the description of that character had been a little too close to someone else she had encountered years ago. She had even watched a television show modeling the latest fashions coming from Europe. Laughing with Amber that tights on men were never going to be accepted as more than stage costumes, Sarah then bit her tongue once she saw that leather vests and plunging necklines were the latest craze, as well. Reassured that, living in the upper half of the midwest, where not only were many people conservative in every way in life (especially dress), but that wearing such clothing would determine certain frostbite and hypothermia nine out of twelve months of the year, Sarah turned the channel and dismissed the thoughts.

Sarah tried to get up from her bed and found that, even though she could sit up, moving her legs was murder on her spine. Balancing her weight on her hand, propped up on the bed stand, she shuffled her feet and found the pain went from a roaring wave to a dull throb within moments. Perhaps she had just been immobile for too long? Well, the bathroom was only a few steps away, as was the kitchen, and if Sarah left now, she would be able to make it to class in time while taking the small steps she now used to make it to her bedroom door. Her backpack was another matter, however. If lifting her shirt hem above her chest caused extreme agony, who was she going to sling a bag full of books over her shoulder? It took Sarah nearly five minutes just to get undressed.

How had Jareth come back? How had she let him back into her life? How had he been able to affect her so much in such a short period of time? So many questions rolled through Sarah's head... Images floated on the river of fear and memory, the flow quickening as though a dam had burst in her mind. Wisps of blond hair streaked with blue. Grey tights that looked so soft, untouchable. Black riding crop. Leather.

Sarah was surprised at her own ravished, startled expression as she glanced into the mirror before stepping in the shower. She looked as tired as she felt, looked as though she had seen a ghost. Sarah noticed, as she always did, that she was too skinny; it wasn't enough to live on popcorn and apple juice, which is all she was usually able to afford. Her breasts weren't as full as other girl's, her hips not as wide. Sarah never meant to notice how many of her peers flaunted their feminine curves and subtle sex appeal, but did anyway. It was rather unnerving to enter a lesson or sit in a classroom along with other girls who were so obviously trying to give themselves away to the next man to buy them a drink. Sarah knew not all women were like that, but most women she knew were exactly like that. At least Amber was more like Sarah than not. Living together never would have worked if there were men over every other night.

Running her hands along her arms, one up across her neck and the other down to her thigh, Sarah sighed. It wouldn't do to consistently be unhappy with herself. After all those failed auditions, Sarah had wondered if it had been more than just her acting or inexperience that had prevented her from landing those roles. Perhaps it had been her body? Perhaps living off what little she ate now was better than being able to eat whatever and how much she wanted? Maybe the directors had taken one look at her scrawny body, pale skin, and wide eyes, checking her off their list as they noticed everything imperfection by imperfection. Sure, there had been the casting-couch offers, the rudest and crudest of directors and artistic designers trying to convince her they could at least land her a role in the chorus or get a recommendation in exchange for a quick lay. Sarah didn't consider those offers as valid proof she was beautiful. She didn't consider those offers anything more than lies. Besides, if she was going to get a role based on how well she did in bed, Sarah knew she would be even worse off in her talent than if she just accepted her audition on the stage. What did she know of matters such as those of the more intimate nature? And, why now, as the water ran, was she thinking of such things?

There was a pounding at the door and Sarah grasped the counter top with a tight grip, knuckles turning white as skin stretched painfully over bone. All her muscles froze and made way for her stomach, which flew into her throat before tightening to the point she thought she was going to vomit. However, before Sarah's reaction could go much further, she remembered that if Jareth wanted in, he wouldn't be knocking on the door. He would just materialize right there in front of her if he wanted to. Surely it was Amber...

"Are you done in the shower yet? I forgot I had a lab on campus this morning and I'm going to run late if I don't get a shower soon!"

"N- no problem!" Sarah called out, voice a little too sharp. Sighing deep and feeling everything go back to normal, including the pain in her back, she climbed into the shower on shaky legs. Sarah leaned her forehead against the cool wall as the hot water scaled her back, burning her skin but unraveling her tight muscles. Through eyes narrowed by exhaustion and pain, she saw the blue tiles swim around her and suddenly couldn't find the soap bar she had been reaching for. A grey curtain rolled over her eyes and all she knew was darkness.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Sarah, what am I going to do with you?"

Amber leaned against the door frame to Sarah's room as she watched her friend lay down upon her bed with hesitant motions. Dressed in purple silk pajamas, something Amber didn't know Sarah owned, the dark haired girl attempted a grin.

"Don't you dare tell me you're fine," Amber said as Sarah opened her mouth to speak. "I still have half a mind to call the hospital and let them know I'm taking you in. If you weren't feeling well, why didn't you just tell me?"

Sarah sighed. There was no arguing with Amber when it came to health, her mother and sister being some of the best nurses the city had ever seen. Her friend knew when it was time to leave well enough alone and when it was better to just haul Sarah into the car by her hair if need be and bring her to the doctor. Amber had already told her six times between the time Sarah regained consciousness and now that she was lucky she hadn't suffered a concussion.

"I think it was the pain in my back," came the explanation. "It was so bad I couldn't focus and I think the shock of the water did me in."

"Watch your feet next time," Amber retorted, angry out of concern. "If you trip like this again, I'm getting a third house mate just so I can keep you under observation, for heaven's sake. You scared the hell out of me twice in less than a day."

"I'm sorry."

It was all Sarah could think of to say and Amber, as expected, softened her glare. Although she was sweet and innocent most of the time, Amber had quite a temper on her when she was nervous. She hated making people feel badly and Sarah assumed she looked pretty bad. When she had fallen in the shower, she had hit her left shoulder on the way down, not to mention the bump on her head from hitting the soap. Who knew soap could cause so much pain? In a moment of childishness, Sarah recalled that the soap had been her favorite scent, too. Betrayal in the most personal of ways. The thought of feeling sad over such a small detail pertaining to her injuries almost made Sarah laugh. Laughter wouldn't be the best choice in the situation she was still in, though.

"Now, promise me you won't go to class! Not only would it have been impossible for you to carry your books with a bad back and now a bad shoulder, but if you pass out in class, I'm not going to be there."

Amber's glare came back when Sarah didn't answer fast enough.

"No problem... The most I'll do is limp to the music building for some practice. I'll talk with my professors tomorrow..."

The dejected tone in Sarah's voice made Amber pity her friend just for a moment.

Everyone knows you shouldn't pity someone. It's not proper, it's not right. It's not respectful. But sometimes pity overrides both what is socially acceptable and respectable. Amber was never above breaking rules. It had been a violation of rules when she had tried the doorknob at the bathroom after Sarah's shower had taken way too long. First, Amber had thought, while leaning against the kitchen counter impatiently with a bowl of cereal, that Sarah was a little over her usual shower time. Then, it became the longest shower Amber had ever known Sarah to take. Only after Amber realized Sarah could have gotten into trouble because of her back was when she broke the First Rule of the Bathroom: Thou Shalt Not Touch The Door Handle While Water Is Running. It had been unusual for the door not to be locked: Sarah locked the door even when she went in to brush her teeth. Amber had always wondered why Sarah was so self conscious about herself until she had heard the stories about offers made by perverts in theater director's clothing. Walking in and seeing Sarah's pale, wet body under the jets of water coming down had been terrifying not only because there was a person helpless on her bathroom floor but because it had been the first time she saw Sarah in anything less than a tank and shorts. She didn't understand, although she hadn't meant to notice, why Sarah was upset with her body when there wasn't anything to be upset about... Some girls were just over critical of themselves and Amber was sure the rejections from the stage hadn't helped. Maybe that was why Sarah had gone into music: you could hide under the black gowns and within ensembles without effort.

"I'm sorry, too," Amber said, feeling embarrassed recalling those terrifying moments where she had turned off the water and put the fluffy blue towel over Sarah's wet self, afraid her friend had broken something or was drowning. "I didn't want to, well, just walk in, but... yeah," she finished lamely.

"It's okay, you did what you had to do. And if you hadn't decided to check on me, who knows if I would still be in there?"

The girls matched smiles as Amber mumbled something about Sarah coming back to the present.

"If you hadn't come back so quickly, it would be off to the hospital for you! You seem less confused, less disoriented than before," Amber said moments before her phone beeped much in the same manner as Sarah's alarm clock had earlier, only less wheezy. Taking it out of her pocket, she muttered a swear.

"Well, it's off to class. If you need a thing, and I mean even if it means getting to the kitchen, call me and I'll come right over!"

"I'm sorry you didn't get your shower."

"I'm just glad I still have a housemate! Sorry that I'm not hugging you goodbye, I just don't want to mess up your back, seeing as you're probably even more tender than before now that I had to move you from the shower. Want another painkiller?"

"I don't feel a thing," Sarah lied through her teeth as the pain radiated from her old injuries to the new and then back again like some weird transit system. Amber raised an eyebrow.

"Either way, call me if you need something and I'll see you after my classes! Be careful!"

With that, Amber was out the door in a flurry of blond curls and Sarah could hear the doors slam shut behind her after the familiar grunt of the all too common heavy backpack being lifted from the floor. She could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the ticking of the clock in the dining room, and wondered, if Sarah held her breath, if she could hear the sound of her own muscles and bones crying out. God, she was sore. Sarah ran her hands along the length of her stomach, down her sides, feeling the silk smooth out under her fingers. It was nice of Amber to lend her such nice pajamas; Sarah didn't remember too much between the time she was shaken awake by Amber's panicking voice and when she fully realized she was in her room, safe for the moment. If she could ignore the pain, the rest of it wasn't too bad. At home in pajamas, nothing to do all day except sleep and figure out a way to explain to her professors what had all happened without sounding impaired and unable to take care of herself.

And contemplate what had happened during the time she had lost in the shower.

When Amber had mentioned it was lucky Sarah had forgot to lock the door, it was the first clue that what Sarah had dreamed of in her unconscious state had actually happened. Sarah never forgot to lock the door. When Amber had she was happy Sarah had come "back to the present", instead of saying "regained consciousness," that was the second reason why it was nearly impossible to deny the conversation that had taken place. The last clue, and all she needed to confirm she had indeed visited the Underground, was the little leather bound book in blue resting on her bed table. He had promised it would be there upon her return, and it was, sitting right next to the clock.

The clock.

"It really is time to buy a new-" Sarah started, assuming the darn thing had finally up and died on her, flashing as though the power had gone out and needed to be reset. But the hour, that number... it was impossible.

"13:00, --:--, 13:00, --:--"

Sarah's thoughts slipped away much like her hand as it drew back from the clock. Tentatively, hesitantly, distracted by recent memory...

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

It was wet, very wet. There was no water around her, though, for which reason Sarah couldn't understand. And dark, even though florescent lights had flooded the room just moments earlier. She didn't even know if she was still in a room, unable to see a thing around her. It reminded her of that dark dungeon she had once been in, that place where you put people to forget about them...

"My dearest Sarah," said the voice she had heard so many times in moments like these, "I wouldn't forget about you. I should know. I've tried very hard these past years to forget the girl who outsmarted my labyrinth and denied the most tempting of offers."

Sarah put her hands over her hears and closed her eyes, only able to tell one darkness from another with the motion of eyelids. She was chilled and, if she would only admit it to herself, a little bit afraid.

"Oh, foolish girl," the voice commented, traces of cruel laughter mixed between words, "You know as well as I do that to block the voice of your king will never work."

"Where am I?"

Sarah heard her voice, resolute if not a bit weak, echoing off unseen walls.

"Actually, the question would be were you were, not where you are now."

Opening her eyes, Sarah saw.

It wasn't darkness, but it could hardly be considered lit. There was a stone floor, very cold under her legs as she knelt in the circular room. Tapestries were torn, hardly hanging off walls, torches unlit and practically too covered in dust and cobwebs to light properly anyway. Large windows showed the tops of spindly trees, bare branches overgrown to the point that the birds circling the barren landscape wouldn't rest upon them. It was twilight, orange fading into purple, stars thrust into their nightly performance of entertaining the gazers coming out this hour to tell their fortunes. This room wasn't familiar, not without the hordes of minions it would usually hold, not without-

Upon the golden throne, purple silk flowing onto the floor, sat the Goblin King. A booted foot was thrown up over the edge, slender ankle hooked. Nonchalant, Jareth was dressed in the most vicious shade of red, leather riding crop tapping against the muscular thigh trapped within the grey tights. His look was one of amusement, but hardly concealing his smirk as Sarah realized why she was wet and cold.

"Bring me back, now! I was in the shower, I was going to class, I-"

"-know where you were," Jareth stated, continuing the tapping of the crop. "I hope you don't mind. I doubted you would give me another moment of your waking hours, so I decided to just take all other hours instead. So easy, so rewarding... I took some liberties, such as making sure you don't drown while you're visiting with me, and I will give you a little more warning before I throw you into such a swoon as to make you collapse. Really, locked doors can only be trouble."

Sarah was livid and embarrassed as she followed his gaze to the blue towel that had miraculously appeared beside her as she knelt in the center of the room. Sparing what little was left of her modesty as she took her hands away from her body to grab the towel, Sarah could feel Jareth's grin grow wider. Wrapping the cloth, familiar from all the times she had washed, folded, and used it, around her slim, still damp body, Sarah stood and faced the returning menace in her life.

"See, not so bad."

"Who said it wasn't so bad?"

The tension grew between the king and the young woman, Jareth pausing in his tapping of the crop to rest his head in a gloved hand. His grin turned into a full smile, all his pointed teeth bared almost in a threat for her to say another word, a taunt to continue.

"At least, in this world, there is no physical pain."

"You're being a pain in the-"

"Your manners are lacking, but at least you can move without flinching; for that I am pleased," Jareth interrupted before Sarah could finish her retort.

"I doubt your concern for me could-"

Sarah realized she didn't know how to finish the sarcastic and cruel comment she was planning. The words had escaped her head. Standing there, gaping like a fish and not looking any drier than one, Sarah became embarrassed yet again. She had expected him to stop her mid-sentence once again.

"Where are your goblins? Why do you live in such filth? For a king, you might have a better throne room."

"Oh, my dear Sarah..."

"Will you stop calling me that? Stop it!"

"I'll never stop calling you that," was the response as Sarah realized she was talking to an empty throne and his voice was right in her ear. Turning to look at him, tempted to attempt a slap, she found herself looking straight at his twisted lips, whispers away from her face.

"Send me back."

"I thought you wanted an answer to your questions?"

"I do, but I would also like to be dry and dressed right now and I don't see that happening any more than getting a straight answer from you!"

"Would a crooked answer suffice?"

"Never."

Jareth circled the woman, who found herself shaking more and more. The sun had completely gone down, the stars in their glittering choreography, shedding no warmth. It was getting colder, and it was nearly completely dark. She could see outlines, now, shapes and hints of shapes as the Goblin King continued to speak.

"This world is fading, Sarah. The Underground you knew from that silly play you read, that foolish notion in your mind... none of it is true. It was an adaptation, a young girl's fantasy, an unreliable account of the true Underground and the true Goblin King. As you grew up, as things changed, your visions of the Underground changed, too. Oh, they were hidden away, deep down inside, too deep down to realize you still had them except in the rarest of dreams, but they were still there just the same. You stopped imagining that an entire kingdom could consist of goblins, innocent and guileless and all together too adorable to cause much harm, even with intent to do so. You stopped creating, stopped nurturing those thoughts, that special creativity that led you here in the first place. You lost your faith that what you read could come true if you only tried hard enough. Sarah, you grew up."

He stopped in front her, boots tapping on the stone much like the crop had been tapping earlier. She could feel his breath on her cheek, water dripping and drying, leaving her skin warm where his words had been. Every syllable was magic, every pause heady like a sort of wine pouring from a bottle to a glass, bringing new fragrances with every meaning within his words. He was too close, once again, but Sarah couldn't find her feet as fast as her cynicism.

"Planning on throwing another snake at me, turning it into a scarf? Just to scare me?"

"Why, not unless you want it that way."

Snapping his fingers, he held out his hand. In the dim light coming from the rising moon, filtered through the clumped and broken branches of trees, Sarah could see a dull shine coming from a side of the object. Then Jareth placed the item on her shoulder, none too gently. As whatever the object was began to topple from her shoulder, Sarah could feel legs, spindly legs, and antennae. The rough texture of the exoskeleton and unfamiliar touch of something so quick and hard frightened Sarah. She screamed as she realized it was a cockroach, a large cockroach the size of her palm. The towel fell on top of the insect as both tumbled to the ground.

"Damn you!"

Sarah, trying to compose herself enough that she wouldn't burst into tears for fear of wrapping the towel around her only to find the cockroach tangled in the fibers, glared a glare she knew Jareth could see even through the darkness. She was afraid of the stupid things, even though she knew they couldn't hurt her. As she bent down to pick up the blanket, she felt a sleek warmth cover her from the shoulders to the knees. Sarah realized it was the purple silk from the throne and that Jareth, face awash in celestial light, was looking at her with an intensity that made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.

"Do you want to learn the true story of the Goblin King, the real Underground?"

"I want you to send me back, just send me back!"

The tears running down her face came through to her voice. A finger gloved in soft leather swept away the tear that threatened to fall from her chin as Jareth pulled her face up to meet his. Sarah could feel his hair on her face as he tilted her head to whisper in her ear.

"I will send you back with a gift, and you will take it. It will be waiting," he said as he could feel her protesting before he had finished. "I will see you on the thirteenth hour three days from now. You will tell me what you think of your future kingdom."

Sarah felt Jareth's lips against her ear before he looked her in the eyes and pushed her backwards as forcefully as he could. She felt her body fly backwards, felt the silk ripple, and heard the rush of air as the stone floor came closer and closer.


End file.
